‘Well, let’s hope you can join us in the pub one night. We’ll have a girls’ night. Prosecco! Or a couple of gins. You know where we are. We have to stick together and support each other.’

By ‘we’, I’m assuming she means the British. I look at Carine, who says nothing, staring at the woman from behind her sunglasses.

‘And how are you going to make a living?’ Cora asks.

‘I’m—’

Just at that moment there’s a shout and I’m grateful for the distraction. I look to where it came from, as do the three British women and Carine. A young man in a hoodie dodges in and out of the sauntering shoppers, clearly having helped himself to something from the display of bright red strawberries, and disappears. The stallholder throws up his hands, then returns to serving his line of customers, seemingly letting the incident pass.

A man in a suit stops and speaks to him, one hand in his pocket. They shrug and share a good-natured exchange. It’s the mayor, I realize. He pulls out a note from his wallet and takes a punnet of strawberries, refusing the change, and the moment has passed. The market crowd goes about its business. Cora, though, is tutting and her friends shake their heads.

The mayor is coming towards us, making for the other part of the market close to the Office du Tourisme. His pace slows. His smile drops, as do his shoulders. He stops in front of the three women. ‘Bonjour, Mesdames,’ he says, and greets each one politely. Then Carine introduces me, and he welcomes me as if I’ve just arrived. Strangely, that’s how it feels. He doesn’t ask any questions when Carine explains I’ve bought Le Petit Mas and am living there on my own. No mention of my husband, my past, just the here and now. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

‘Monsieur le maire, you really must do something about that.’ Cora points a manicured finger at the sundrenched square. ‘You can’t allow that kind of theft to go on without doing something about it.’

The other women all agree. They may have a point, I think. The town feels so safe. It was a surprise to me to see that happen.

‘In no time we’ll be the crime capital of the south!’

The mayor raises an eyebrow. ‘Sometimes,’ he says, ‘it is better to live and let live. Enjoy the weather, ladies. All is fine here in Ville de Violet. Enjoy what you have. Others are not as fortunate.’ He bids everyone good day and sidesteps the women.

‘Honestly, you wouldn’t get away with it back in the UK,’ Cora says. And she’s probably right.